


Reverse Tinman by HeartOfGlass

by StrengthThroughWounding



Category: AFI, AFIslash
Genre: Angst, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 12:25:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: None - Warning
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3067763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrengthThroughWounding/pseuds/StrengthThroughWounding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I don't know if I can listen to your madness if I'm not allowed to touch you. / I don't know if I can cradle your insanity if I'm not allowed to fuck you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reverse Tinman by HeartOfGlass

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on the song "reverse tinman" by red wire black wire. they are an AMAZING band, and i will post all the lyrics at the end. if anyone wants the song, I'd be happy to send it to them, it's sort of hard to find.

  
[Reverse Tinman](http://afislash.com/viewstory.php?sid=8009) by [HeartOfGlass](http://afislash.com/viewuser.php?uid=3162)  


  
Summary: "I don't know if I can listen to your madness if I'm not allowed to touch you. / I don't know if I can cradle your insanity if I'm not allowed to fuck you."  
One shot.  
Categories: [Javey](http://afislash.com/browse.php?type=categories&catid=2) Characters:  None  
Genres:  Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Songfic  
Warnings:  None  
Challenges:  
Series: None  
Chapters:  1 Completed: Yes   
Word count: 6302 Read: 633  
Published: 11/10/2009 Updated: 11/10/2009 

Chapter 1 by HeartOfGlass

Author's Notes:

This is based on the song "reverse tinman" by red wire black wire. they are an AMAZING band, and i will post all the lyrics at the end. if anyone wants the song, I'd be happy to send it to them, it's sort of hard to find.  
I've been working on this for WAYYYY too long, but the song was SO inspiring, I had to make it into something, and i wanted it to be good. I hope every likes it, reviews are magnificent! Enjoy =)

Disclaimer: Don't own, didn't happen, no disrespect intended

As Davey’s parting words to the crowd rang through the concert hall, Hunter, Adam and I scuttled off the stage. While my bandmates looked exhausted, and relieved to be finally be done for the night, my feelings were the exact opposite.

Couldn’t we play one more encore?

I waited anxiously for Davey to appear, bracing myself for the worst.

I have to give him credit; he puts on a brilliant front for the fans. On stage, in interviews, he’s positively charming. You could never say that Davey was a poor performer. For one thing, it simply was not true. For another, he’d likely slit your throat.

It’s not that he thinks he’s perfect; on the rare occasion that he does make a mistake, he’s usually aware of it. It’s just that he’s painfully sensitive to criticism from other people. It’s a double blow to him: not only are they telling him he’s done something wrong, they’re telling him he must not have realized it.

One night, Adam had suggested that his voice may have been off a bit, and from the next room I could heard the screaming that followed. Minutes later, Davey was in _my_ room, tears and makeup running down his face as he told me that no one appreciated his efforts, and that Adam was certainly plotting to kick him out of his own band. Oh the horror!

“You’re the only one who understands, Jade,” he’d whined. Never mind that hours before, he’d been reading me the riot act for almost starting the wrong song. On stage, I had turned to him and asked if Prayer Position was next. His eyes had narrowed ever so slightly as he hissed ‘No Poetic Device.’ I immediately knew I’d be hearing about it later.

I once asked Adam if he treated Hunter this way on _his_ first tour with AFI. After shifting uncomfortably and hemming and hawing for a moment, he told me no, not really.

Davey said it was merely because he had high expectations, because I was so talented. How clever of him, to weave a compliment into his reasoning. How could I resist that?

Finally, he entered our dressing room. Hunter and Adam were draped tiredly over the couches in the corner, but I stood nervously near the door. As he strode in, he paid no attention to me, save for an angry glare out of the corner of his eye. This was usually how it began: he ignored me.

He ignored me until I was so desperate to be addressed by him that he could’ve told me to drop dead and my heart still would’ve soared. It was pathetic.

He spoke to Adam and Hunter for half an hour before they told him they couldn’t keep their eyes open, and were going to take a taxi back to the hotel.

“Jade and I are going to linger, talk to fans and such. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Night Dave, night Jade,” Adam nodded to each of us, and shut the door behind him.

That was my cue to sit, so I did. I sank into the worn, soft cushions of the couch and relished the superficial, temporary comfort. It wasn’t until the weight on my feet was relieved that I realized what a toll standing for four hours had taken. A small sigh escaped my lips as I exhaled, my eyes carefully drawn to the floor.

“What the fuck was that out there?”

I was almost curious. What was it this time? I wracked my brain, trying to remember even the tiniest mistake.

“Malleus Maleficarum was the first song you ever wrote for this band. How on earth did you manage to fuck it up?”

It was a brilliant question, to which even I would have loved to know the answer. Though, by the looks of it, I never would.

“I mean come on Jade! Don’t make me regret my decision to let you in this band.” His eyes were alive with a mixture of pure rage and tears, voice cracking. Which would he do first, I wondered, strangle me, or start crying?

He raised his arms to run his fingers dramatically through his thick black hair, muscles rippling under the mesh of his shirt as he did.

The next few moments were silent, allowing me to admire him without simultaneously having to shield my ego from a constant flow of degradation. With my eyes, I traced the contours of his well sculpted chest and stomach, watching his ribs expand and relax with each exaggerated breath. There were no two ways around it; his body was incredible.

“Jade!” he snapped, his voice both desperate and angry. “Are you listening to me?!”

I looked up to his face, indicating that he had my attention. “Of course. I’m sorry, I’ll work on it.” No matter what the issue was, some variation of this line seemed to work every single time. I’d learned early on that it was in my own best interest to tune out most of what he said from this point on. There was simply no way I could internalize every word every time and come out of this tour with a shred of self esteem.

As he resumed his tirade, I resumed my ogling. If only he knew how well he distracted me from his own speech.

My gaze drifted downward, briefly revisiting his torso before settling on the true point of interest: his backside. His nervous pacing provided me with an excellent variety of views. As he turned in stride, the black vinyl pulled taught across his perfectly round buttocks, revealing tone and definition that a simple pair of jeans would’ve hidden.

At that instant, I felt my own pants growing tight, stretching to encompass my rapidly forming erection. I silently cursed at myself. Sure, Davey wouldn’t notice, but that wasn’t my main concern.

In this situation, choosing what to pay attention to was a matter of choosing the lesser of two evils. If I pay attention to his words, I risk irreparable damage to my ego. If I pay attention to the man speaking the words, I bring upon myself almost unbearable sexual frustration, and the sheer humiliation of the fact that this man still turns me on _so_ much.

In the beginning, it was much less humiliating. I’d been attracted to him well before I’d ever joined AFI, and I’d surrendered myself to the fact that I couldn’t really change that. When he asked me to join AFI, I was prepared to ignore my feelings entirely, put them aside for the greater good. Davey had had other things in mind.

At this point, no self respecting individual would feel anything but disdain for the man who stood before me. No one with an ounce of integrity in their body would stand for it.

But there was something I needed from him. Something I would have to sacrifice if I dared stand up for myself, and in my mind, the loss would in no way be worth it.

My eyes flicked impatiently to the clock. He’d be going off for a solid ten or so minutes; he ought to be wrapping this up fairly soon.

Almost as if on cue, he stopped, casting upon me a disgusted expression. He shook his head, a melodramatic look of ‘I have nothing left to say to you’ plastered on his face.

“You’d better shape up Jade, this is getting ridiculous.” His hand ventured to where a pocket on his pants would be before he realized he had none. “Call a cab,” he demanded, arms folded across his chest in a childlike gesture of frustration.

Obediently, I fished my phone out of my pocket and dialed. Again, most people wouldn’t take kindly to being ordered around, especially not under these circumstances. Personally, if I’m being told to do something I would’ve done anyway, I have little problem letting it slide.

Once outside, we were met with a small crowd of diehard fans. This was the part I always forgot about. Just when the salvation seemed so tangible, just when the peaceful end was in sight….but we had to do it. Not only had they attended our show, they’d waited upwards of an hour in 20 degree weather for a two minute interaction and a measly autograph. Who were we to deny them that?

Davey’s change in demeanor was downright chilling; a cheerful smile graced his lips as he signed tickets and chatted amicably with a group of girls. I had mere seconds to internalize how disturbing this flip was before I was approached by a couple of kids who’d brought LPs for signing. Of course, I obliged and exchanged a few words, but less than a minute later, the cab we ordered arrived.

My heart sank as I approached the window and sadly told the driver to move on without us. I swear, every time I do that, a part of me dies. I watched wistfully as the car drove away, wishing badly that Davey and I were inside. Soon enough.

When the last of the fans departed, Davey went inside to gather his stuff, and I pulled out my phone, once again, to call for a ride to the hotel. As I waited, I tortured myself with the observation that, had I left on foot an hour ago, I’d already be in the comfort of my room.

The cab ride back was a long thirty minutes. The damn hotel itself was less than five miles away, but it was midnight on a Friday so traffic was unrelenting. Davey made polite small talk with the cabby while I pressed myself against the window, sitting as far from Davey as I possibly could. My body language was a desperate and pitiful attempt to tell him that I didn’t appreciate the way he treated me, and that I was somewhat angry. When such things can’t be conveyed verbally, I find that I almost automatically revert to other methods of expression. Of course, Davey didn’t get the message, and if he did, he doesn’t care. Regardless, it makes me feel a bit better to know that for at least one short cab ride I can hold my own and resist him. This is how I make up for what just happened, and what’s about to happen.

Upon our arrival, Davey pulled a worn canvas wallet out of his bag and paid the man up front for the ride, a hefty tip included. At this point, I’d learned not to bother offering my half; it generally angered him, and he absolutely never accepted. While some might say this behavior is related to a need to prove that he’s self sufficient, I think it’s his way of ensuring that I’m always somehow indebted to him. Though, I can only surmise his reasoning, as he’s never actually given any.

I got out of the car wordlessly, careful not to thank him. I was still sulking.

One brisk walk through the lobby and silent elevator ride later, we part ways. His room was only two down from mine, but the minute I found myself behind closed doors, he felt miles away. I missed him already.

I was meant to share the room with Smith, as usual, but he was nowhere to be seen. An open suitcase on one of the beds was the only evidence that anyone else has even been here. Odds were he was down at the hotel bar. Maybe, if he was feeling adventurous, he’d wandered down the street a bit. I looked at the empty bed, the one I’d claimed when we’d arrived earlier. It was closest to the window. No matter what the view is, I always want the bed nearest to fresh air. There’s something incredibly stifling about a room on the 19th story of any building. Smith has zero preference, so this tends to work out well.

Eagerly, I stripped away the sweaty clothes that had been plastered to my body all night. I sat on the empty bed in my boxers, relishing the liberation and comfort that I’d been craving for hours. There’s something about playing a show that’s too much like working out in front of an audience for it to be particularly comfortable.

My eyes drifted to the suit case on the floor, and I almost bent over to remove clothing so that I could dress myself. Before I moved a muscle, I realized how pointless that would’ve been, and settled back on the bed in my indecent state, pointing the remote at the TV.

Halfway into whatever miserable romantic comedy was airing on HBO, I began to grow nervous. Davey didn’t usually take quite this long. He almost always showered as soon as he got back, and by the time he’d arrive at my room, his hair would still be dripping wet. What else could he possibly be doing?

Torturing me, that’s what.

Ten minutes later, all sorts of destructive thoughts were running through my mind. Maybe he didn’t want me anymore. Maybe he didn’t _need_ me anymore. Maybe someone else has taken my place, and all I’ve put up with has been for nothing. Part of me has always suspected that he didn’t need me quite as much as I needed him, but anyone else would tell you otherwise. I satisfied all sorts of emotional voids for him that no one else was willing to so much as entertain. I was his shoulder to cry on, his ear for venting, his security blanket. Sure, he could probably put his cock in just about whoever’s ass he pleased, but no one else would allow the psychological and emotional parasitism that I did.

Still, I couldn’t help but worry that perhaps I wasn’t enough for him at this point. Perhaps he wasn’t attracted to me anymore, or I simply bored him. He easily could’ve picked up some stranger in lobby…

By the time the credits were rolling, I was beside myself with despair. Certainly, at this point I needed to resign myself to the fact that he wasn’t coming. He’d never been this long before, so it must mean he’d found better things to do. Or better people to do, more like.

Just as I stepped off my bed to get ready for sleep, a knock at the door startled me. Startled is maybe an understatement; I’d jumped nearly two feet and gasped audibly before beginning my walk across the room. Pausing at the threshold, I tried my best to prepare myself for a letdown. It’s probably just Smith. Maybe a maid, doing turndowns….at midnight. I ran a number of possibilities through my head until I was at least somewhat aware that it was entirely likely that Davey was _not_ waiting for me in the hallway. Expecting that and being wrong about it would be such a knife in my heart.

I could’ve tortured myself with the peephole, but I didn’t. I swung the door open quickly, the same way you would rip off a band-aid; I wanted to get the sting of disappointment over with as fast as possible.

“Hey, Jade.”

But there was no sting. No disappointment.

“I…I didn’t think you were coming.” The words ran through my head at least twenty times before I managed to choke them out. For the first few seconds, I’d stood slack-jawed in the door way, staring at my visitor.

He’d clearly showered since I saw him last. His face was free of make-up, hair free of sweat. Hard as it is to believe, he’s even more attractive when he’s not all dressed up.

When I’d finally gained a bit of composure, I invited him in. Once the door was shut behind us, I sat on the edge of the bed I’d claimed. He followed, but stood in front of me.

“Aren’t you cold?”

Immediately I felt a pink blush creep into my cheeks. Until then, I’d more or less forgotten my state of undress. I looked awkwardly to the side, trying to decide whether or not to admit that I was freezing, but had been too preoccupied by my own nervousness to notice.

“No, it’s more comfortable this way.”

He chuckled softly, raising his eye brows in amusement.

“You’re not fooling anyone,” he quipped, nodding towards my nipples, pink flesh dimpled and erect.

Half out of anger, half out of discomfort, I folded my arms over my chest.

“Maybe I like being cold.”

He leaned forward, placing a hand on my shoulder, and pushed me gently onto my back.

“Hopefully not too much,” he hissed, drawing his tongue over the flesh just below my ear. “Because that’s about to change.”

A breath I’d been holding for what could’ve been days escaped my lungs as I felt his torso settle atop mine. It was such a relief to be here again. Every time this happens, I worry it’s the last time. I worry and worry until it actually happens again and reality proves me wrong. Knowing that I had this for at least one more night put my mind at such great ease.

Without wasting any time, I pulled his shirt over his head, dying to feel his skin against my skin. He lifted his arms willingly, allowing the fabric to be ripped away and cast to the floor. As soon as he was liberated, his lips were on mine, inviting me in to a hungry kiss. So greedily, I probed his mouth with my tongue, eager to taste him.

He let me in, lips parting immediately, and my tongue slid fluidly against his. Somewhere under the overpowering flavor of mouthwash, I found that familiar taste. It was Davey, and it was intoxicating. If we’d not been lying down, I would’ve toppled over from its dizzying effect.

My hands were on the small of his back, pulling him in as close as possible as I ravished his mouth. For a fleeting moment, I was in control. A _very_ fleeting moment. As soon as Davey sensed the shift in power, his hands were on my arms, pinning them to the bed.

I didn’t mind his subtle displays of dominance; I knew how much the authority meant to him. I craned my neck upwards to lick the last traces of saliva off his lips as he pulled his face from mine. Though the ending of the kiss left me somewhat sad, the loss was immediately compensated for by the sight of half-naked Davey perched atop my hips. Smooth, inked skin stretched over his toned chest and stomach, gliding over his muscles as he raised his arms above his head.

“Stop drooling.”

His voice caught me off guard, and I nearly winced. God, the humiliation was never-ending. But I regained my footing quickly enough.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I retorted, watching the smirk on his face falter ever so slightly. He leant over, hands placed on either side of my torso, so that his face was inches from mine.

“Tell me you don’t like it, Jade. Tell me you’re not taking every free moment on stage to admire my ass. Tell me you don’t undress me with your eyes when you can’t with your hands.”

I said nothing, face burning. We both knew the truth. For him, it was a delightful thing, for me, a point of weakness. I’ve never spent any extended period of time around him without taking at least a minute or two to contemplate his magnificent body. I could’ve gone for dishonest dignity and told him he was wrong, but I had no way of knowing he wouldn’t storm out of the room right then and there. Davey could be something of a loose cannon.

During my silence, the wheels in Davey’s head had been turning. He ran a finger down my cheek tenderly, and looked me dead in the eye.

“Do you think about me, Jade?”

Oh, we’d been over this before. I decided to feign innocence.

I looked up at him with the best naïve, doe –eyed expression I could muster.

“What?”

His mischievous grin widened; he was evidently delighted to have this opportunity to rephrase the question.

“When you touch yourself, who do you think of?”

I swallowed nervously. There was no way he’d let me get away with not answering this. The shame of it would have to be pushed aside.

“You.” The word barely left my lips, coming out in a shaky whisper. I searched his shining brown eyes for some hint of approval, for some indication that I’d given the correct answer. They were clouded with lust, but unreadable beyond that.

“Davey?” I asked nervously, growing desperate for a response.

Silently, he climbed off of me and sat up on his knees, hand moving to the button on his jeans. I scrambled to sit against the headboard, not wanting to miss a moment of this. For a short while, it felt as though Davey were doing something for me; not for himself, not for a crowd, but for me and me alone.

I watched as he peeled his pants and boxers away slowly. To the untrained eye, it may have appeared as though he was moving at a normal pace, but I knew better than that. I knew Davey, and I could tell when he was putting on a bit of show.

My heart rate tripled as his boxers moved slowly down his hips, revealing inch after inch of pale flesh, before he was finally entirely exposed in all his clean shaven glory. The corners of my mouth twitched slightly at this observation, daring to form a ghost of a smile.

“Something amusing you?” He snapped, his voice quiet but menacing.

The smile quickly faded from my face as I shook my head. I felt my lips move to form the word “no,” but not a single sound came out. Some neuron must have misfired due to the fact that my brain was completely overwhelmed by the breathtaking sight of the naked man on my bed.

Nervously, I crawled forward until I was at his knees, face hovering a few inches away from his crotch. Gathering my courage, I looked up at him, hand reaching out to barely touch his thigh.

“Is it…would it be alright if I…” I swallowed, having lost not only my nerve, but words as well.

To my luck, Davey seemed to understand.

“God, please do,” he urged me, in a low and husky voice. His hand was already on the back of my head, drawing me forward impatiently.

I gladly followed through, taking the length of him into my mouth in one swift motion. Oh, what an impressive length it was. With his head pressed against the back of my throat, I carefully ran my tongue over every available inch of skin. Once I was sure he’d be dripping with saliva, I wrapped my hand around the base of his erection and drew my head back.

I lapped up the drops of precum welling at his tip, then looked up at him. He had threaded his fingers tightly through my hair, limiting my range of motion, but I was able to make eye contact. I was delighted to see exactly what I was hoping for: a look on his face that told me there was something he not only wanted, but _needed_ from me. The pleading, lustful expression in his eyes sent shivers down my spine, and straight to my boxers.

Making sure to hold his gaze, I slid every inch of him into my mouth once again, moving my lips up his shaft at a tantalizingly slow pace. I watched him squirm ever so slightly with anticipation, before eventually pushing his hips forward to advance the process. I’d meant to tease him, but I couldn’t resist that. He was asking for something, and I’d unfortunately never been one to deny him anything.

I allowed myself to settle into a rhythmic pattern of head bobbing, slipping my mouth up and down his delightfully stiff member at a pace just barely fast enough to get him worked up. I waited anxiously for the moment when even the smallest sound would escape his lips, and eventually it came. A precious deep moan sounded from the back of his throat, and the dam was broken. Once the first noise was made, he stopped holding back, he stopped restraining himself. I never quite figured out why this was, but I was certainly wasn’t one to complain.

Shortly after, his hand was on my shoulder, pushing me away. I watched as he sat back, cock glistening with my spit. There was a small, dazed smile on his face as he reached a hand out to stroke my hair in an odd, affectionate, manner.

“You do excellent things with that mouth of yours, Jade.”

I blushed at the degrading, yet wholly gratifying comment. I’d hoped for approval at most, but to receive such a compliment was thrilling.

He never praised me for my guitar playing, or my song writing; those were merely criticized. It was only in the bedroom, so to speak, that he genuinely flattered me.

“Do you want me to…” I wasn’t entirely sure where I’d been going with that; All I knew was that I wanted to continue pleasing him, and I was certain he wanted me to do _something_. Fortunately, he seemed to have plenty of ideas.

“Get back on your hands and knees? Yes, I’d like that.” He paused for a moment, mischievous brown eyes sizing me up. “And I think you’d like that too,” he added, with a not so subtle glance to my conspicuously tented boxers.

I nodded slowly, shifting into position as I watched him climb off the bed. “Yeah…”

He moved out of my field of vision, but I knew where he was going. I heard the familiar sound of a zipper as he opened the usual inside pocket of my suitcase. When I’d originally packed a bottle of lube for tour, I wasn’t exactly hopeful; I’d just figured I ought to have it in case something came up. However, I certainly was never expecting that it’d be Davey to make use of it. Never in a million years…

I felt the mattress shift under his weight as he settled onto the bed once again, kneeling behind me. When I heard him flip the bottle’s top, I had to consciously stop myself from turning around to watch. I knew the heavenly sight I’d be met with, but I couldn’t bear to be reduced to whimpering mess I’d become if I saw him; this whole situation was demeaning enough as it was.

He was taking his time, no doubt to torture me. When I finally felt his hands yanking my boxers from my waist, I nearly jumped. I heard a quiet snicker behind me, then felt him pressing at my entrance. I pushed back gently. Was it his fingers? No, definitely not. Whether or not I was afforded any preparation was entirely dependent on Davey’s whims. Apparently, tonight he was in no mood for such formalities.

Without pausing or making an event of it, he pushed forward, slick cock slipping inside of me without much trouble. Involuntarily, I groaned loudly, and began the process of adjusting to his incredibly well endowed member. The first time or two, it’d almost been too much, but now I can’t imagine taking any less.

“How do you like that, Jade?”

He knew exactly how I liked it, and that was the precise reason why I always promised myself I wouldn’t answer a question like that. Every night I went into this thinking that I wouldn’t give him _everything_ he wanted, that this time I’d hold back and preserve at least a bit of my dignity.

But when I make those promises, I’m not ass naked on my hands and knees being taken by arguably the most attractive man I’ve ever met.

He didn’t wait for much time to lapse before prompting me further.

“Jade…” he leaned forward, and I could feel his hot, moist breath snaking into my ear. “I believe I asked you something.”

It was clear he wasn’t going to continue until he got a response. I suppose I could’ve tested that theory, but there were other things I’d much rather do.

“It feels incredible. I fucking love it.” The words rushed out of my mouth; the sooner I appeased him, the sooner he could get on with pounding me into the mattress. I expected this to satisfy him, but he didn’t move.

“ _What_ feels incredible?” He’d made no effort to hide the malice in voice. He enjoyed teasing me just as much as he knew I resented it.

“Your massive cock, Davey. Will you fuck me already? _Please_?” My tone was pathetically desperate. I hated to beg like that, but he was really killing me with all of this conversational nonsense. A quick stroking of his ego always did the trick.

“Good,” he murmured, and sat back up, simultaneously thrusting his hips forward.

Before I could even consider trying to keep my voice down, I cried out. In only one shot, he’d nailed my prostate and my body was reeling from the nearly incomprehensible pleasure. Feeling that so early was not at all something I’d been prepared for, but Davey allowed no time for recovery.

He drove his hips forward again and again, rhythmically pumping in and out. His hands firmly gripped my buttocks for leverage, allowing him to slam in harder and harder each time. Lusty, guttural moans sounded from his throat. They were entirely different noises from the pitiful whines and whimpers I was barely allowing to escape my lips. This was a result of my entirely unsuccessful efforts to keep at least some of my reactions to myself. It wasn’t that I didn’t want him to know how much I enjoyed this- there was no denying that I was in complete ecstasy- it was more that I wanted to prove I had the restraint he had. I wanted to believe that if I wanted to, I could be quiet. However, the simple fact of the matter was that I could do no such thing. Davey had won, yet again.

“Jade,” Davey began, emphasizing the syllable with forceful thrust. I could tell from his tone that he’d been reading my mind. I have no idea how he does it.

“I want to hear my name.” Another thrust. “From your lips.” And again. “Loudly.”

Of course he did. Honestly, if I’d not been holding back, he would’ve heard it at least a hundred times by now. I took a deep breath and prepared to let go of the miniscule amount of pride I’d managed to retain.

At the next impatient shove of his hips, I inhaled sharply, and finally allowed his name to fall from my lips.

“Davey…oh God.” It came out in a breathy moan, at a volume that didn’t even come close to qualifying as loud.

I knew that wouldn’t be enough, but since I’d already given in, there was plenty more on its way.

“Louder, Jade,” he growled, pushing forward with increasing speed. As his body slammed against mine, I found my voice.

“Fuck, Davey! Ah, Christ, that’s so _good_.” This time I was certainly approaching a yell, though every other word was lost in a grunt, my body lurching forward as Davey rammed into me with all the effort he could muster.

I hadn’t realized it, but at some point my hand had moved to my aching erection, fist pumping furiously up and down. As Davey’s moans grew louder, I found myself pumping faster, subconsciously aiming to climax at the exact instant he did. If I succeeded, there’d be a precious few seconds where he and I were on the same level; we’d be equally vulnerable, having both submitted to our carnal desires, and that would unify us in a way nothing else ever would.

I know it’s a load of shit, but I live for that moment of closeness. He doesn’t realize it, but it’s how he makes up for everything else he puts me through. For some people, an unintentional apology wouldn’t be enough, but I’d imagine none of those people had ever had sex with Davey Havok.

Suddenly I felt Davey’s grip on my ass cheeks tighten, fingernails digging into the soft flesh. He uttered a slew of semi coherent curses, and then:

“God, Jade, I’m going to…”

The minute I heard him say my name, I was a total goner. Two more strokes had me spilling thick white liquid all over my hand and onto the bed, as my orgasm ripped through me. Every muscle in my body burned with pleasure, and I chanted his name one last time.

Simultaneously, I could feel Davey’s body shudder above me, and then the familiar sensation of wet warmth as he filled me with his semen. He moaned loudly- I could’ve sworn I heard my name once more- then collapsed onto the bed beside me.

What happened next was always unpredictable. I watched nervously as he sat up, statuesque body gleaming with sweat. Predictably, he gathered his clothes and went into the bathroom. The sound of water rushing from the faucet told me he was cleaning himself off.

At this point, about seventy five percent of the time, he’d leave, and I’d be lucky if he said goodnight. The other twenty five percent, however, he’d stay for an hour or two and we’d talk. We’d talk like absolutely nothing had happened, like the way we talked before I ever joined AFI and before this mess began.

As he emerged from the bathroom, I waited with baited breath, praying for the latter. He paused at the bed, brown eyes briefly cast upon me. If I hadn’t known any better, I’d say he almost looked sad. But my time to assess this quickly passed; he continued wordlessly to the door, and I could feel my heart sink to my knees.

When his hand was on the doorknob, I heard myself speak.

“Davey?”

Oh god, I really hadn’t meant to do that.

He stopped and turned around, looking at me quizzically. There was a question waiting on my tongue, but I hadn’t intended to ask it. It’d always been there, and I’d always ignored it, allowing it to eat away at me every time he left.

“Why… why are you doing this?” I paused, swallowing a lump in my throat. Why me?” I couldn’t bring myself to look at him, too mortified to watch his facial expression as he processed the questions. Immediately regret welled up in my stomach, and I began to expect the worst. He was going to yell at me. He was going to call this all off, tell me he’d never sleep with me again. He was going to laugh at me, insult me. I couldn’t handle any of that.

Before he could respond, I decided I’d retract the questions and apologize.

“Never mind, I-”

“Because you _need_ me. No one else _needs_ me like you do.”

That was a slap in the face. Was he really only sleeping with me to feel needed? Was I merely an instrument used to raise his self esteem?

“That’s it, then?” I asked, tentatively looking up at him.

Davey was silent, but made no move to leave. Assuming it was too late to climb out of the hole I’d dug myself into, I continued.

“You’re doing this because you need someone to make you feel important, and I just happen to be pathetic enough to fit the bill?”

“Well, Jade I mean…” As he shifted uncomfortably, I noticed for the first time clear notes of guilt in his expression. “I am really attracted to you,” he finished awkwardly. Again, I lost the will to meet his gaze. That response had been completely unexpected, and I was too disoriented to even process the implied compliment.

After a moment of staring out the window, I finally muttered “fine.”

He opened the door, but hesitated in the threshold. My heart raced, and I stupidly began feeling hopeful. This could be it, he could be turning around and coming back. I dared to flick my eyes to him, watching anxiously.

“And Jade, you know… you’re doing it too.”

He shut the door quietly behind himself, leaving his words to echo in my mind for days to come. He was right; I was perpetuating this just as much as he was, and as far into the future as I could see, that wasn’t going to change.

End Notes:

I don't know if I can listen to your madness if I'm not allowed to touch you  
I don't know if I can cradle your insanity if I'm not allowed to fuck you  
but of course I will x3  
because baby I'm a washrag, baby I'm a doormat, come on and throw your dirt on me  
I'm a reverse tinman, I'm all heart   
and no body

Contact for conquest, I don't even care if it feels good now  
I'm a fire extinguisher under glass, until you burn down  
and of course you will x3  
Because baby you're a siren, baby you're a smoke bomb  
come and do your worst to me  
you're the last sunset; you're so sad, but so pretty

I've got a spine, you can use it if you need to  
the choice is mine, and I'd do anything you'd ask me to  
I don't need to go out, come on and just tell me about what ails you  
I can lie here all night, I've got nothing that I'd rather do  
but of course you do x3

  
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story archived at <http://www.afislash.com/viewstory.php?sid=8009>  



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